Heinous
by JorriexLover
Summary: There's no better cop in the Special Victim's Unit in New York than Torrie Wilson. However, when a serial child rapist/murderer goes on a rampage, everyone, including Torrie herself, begins to question her abilities. And of course, the return of her old partner doesn't help at all, especially since she's kept a huge secret from him for years.
1. The Experts

Chapter 1: The Experts

*****Warning. This story contains many dark and violent situations. Reader discretion is advised. This is a work of fiction. Any likeness to ANY person or situation is purely coincidental. It is also loosely based on Law & Order: Special Victim's Unit. If you watch that show, you will see very many similarities. **

* * *

"I'm only human."

Taking a deep breath, Detective Torrie Wilson began to tap her fingers on the table in the interrogation room of the sixteenth precinct of the New York City police department. "Shelly's a child, Briscoe," she replied briskly.

"I _said_ I'm only human," Caleb Briscoe retorted.

"She's a fucking, kid!" Torrie's partner, Mike Mizanin screamed.

"Mike," Torrie said, calmly, shifting her attention back to him, "calm down." She gave him a sad smile and he lowered his eyes, defeated.

"I'm human," Briscoe repeated, "I have needs...," he trailed off.

A wave of nausea hit Wilson, but she chose to ignore it. "I understand, Briscoe. And I also understand that you love her."

Mike made a gagging noise in the back of his throat and Torrie shot him a dirty look.

"But you've got to understand that you can't do this anymore. She's too young to love someone in that way. You know that, don't you?" Wilson locked eyes with Briscoe, never letting her guard down.

Caleb Briscoe's eyes filled with tears and he looked down, letting the fears fall on their own. Loud sobs began to echo out through the interrogation room. "I didn't want to do it," he whimpered, "I-she...she was just...," he trailed off, placing his face in his hands, as his shoulders quivered.

Wilson glanced back at Mizanin, who was rolling his eyes and leaning against the wall. She swallowed hard. Anyone with half a soul would have felt sorry for Caleb Briscoe. At first glance, he looked like a depressed, broken man. But Torrie had been a detective for far too long to fall for that. If Torrie knew anything, it was a predator. Briscoe was a tall, fit man with thick, dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He wore expensive suits, watches, and shoes. He even worked at a very successful, respected advertising agent. Caleb Briscoe was one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City. He was expected to be living the American dream in the next few years: a pretty homemaker of a wife, a daughter, a son, a dog, an SUV, a house in the suburbs, and a vacation house in Cape Cod. There was just one problem.

Caleb Briscoe had raped an eight year-old girl.

Detective Wilson knew she couldn't feel a single _ounce_ of sympathy for this man because predators picked that up. Someone that didn't know what they were doing would be certain that Briscoe was remorseful, but Wilson knew he probably wasn't. _If_ he got off for this - he wouldn't - he'd rape another little girl first chance he got.

Shelly Ramirez had been walking, skipping, she'd explained, home from school the day before when Briscoe had taken her into his van, where he raped her repeatedly. Not only had Torrie gotten a confession off of him, but Shelly had been able to identify him. Luckily, Shelly wasn't like a lot of the girls, who couldn't even speak after their attacks. Shelly was traumatized and scared, but she'd trusted Torrie. Most of the little girls did, Mike, too. He was a hard-ass, but he was a softie when it came to kids. When it came to the attackers, he was ruthless, which had often got him in trouble with 1PP and IAB.

Detective Mizanin slammed his hand down on the table, making Briscoe jump. "Why'd you take her?"

Briscoe sniffed. "I...I wasn't going to. I know better. But...but she looked so pretty and gentle and nice. She was skipping and she wore this little pink dress, so I saw her panties...," he trailed off, as if waiting for another gag from Mike.

When Torrie shot him a dirty look, Mike just closed his eyes. He made no noise. "Go on, Caleb," Torrie urged.

Briscoe lowered his eyes. "She was smiling, singing. I wasn't going to talk to her. I just...just wanted to see her up close. She smiled at me. She said 'Hi, mister. I'm Shelly.' Then, she just kept going, but I followed her. I just wanted to see where she'd go. She...she tripped. She was wearing these white Mary Janes and I guess the heel was too much for her. She started to cry so I picked her up and I asked if she was okay.

"She kept crying and hugging me, asking me to take her home...that was my plan. She had a scraped knee. She stopped crying when I put her in my van. She said I was a nice man and her mommy would like me. She told me I should date her aunt because she was single...and then I couldn't take it anymore. She was so...beautiful." He finished, more tears running down his face.

Torrie took a deep breath. Caleb's story mirrored Shelly's identically. He was obviously unstable, she could definitely see that. She'd seen his type before, but then, she'd seen every type before. She could bet her life that Briscoe himself had been abused as a child, but that still didn't make up for what he'd done to Shelly. He could try to blame it all on the girl. He could try to make himself look innocent, but Detective Wilson could see through it. And even if he hadn't confessed, Shelly had identified him _and_ in her rape kit, they'd found his semen. Under her fingernails had been his skin cells.

She looked up at Detective Mizanin and nodded.

They definitely had enough to convict him.

* * *

The average stint in the Special Victim's Unit was two years, if that long. Torrie had been there _ten _years, with a five year stint in Boston, Massachusetts. For fifteen years, Torrie had been an SVU detective, though technically, the first year or so of her first stint, she'd been on desk duty. Ever since she was twenty-two, the special victim's unit had been her whole life. And in those ten years, Torrie had had three partners. She'd had one in Boston, and when she transferred to Manhattan, she'd had two more, Mike included. She was a senior detective while Mizanin was a junior, which definitely explained why she was so much calmer than him.

Torrie and Mike stepped out of the interrogation room and into the bullpen. Two of the other precincts' detectives stood waiting for them. Frequently, Wilson and Mizanin worked with Chris Jericho and Cody Rhodes. Like Torrie, Chris was a senior detective, while Cody was a junior, like Mike.

"You get him?" Chris gave Torrie a hard look. He was given a nod in reply.

"Just enough for me to be sure to convince the jury to convict him, too." The four detectives looked up and were greeted with the clinking of black high heels and the smile of a leggy blond. Stacy Keibler was the assistant district attorney and she was also a constant at the sixteenth precinct. Stacy looked like a lawyer: tall and blond with hazel eyes behind black-framed glasses. She routinely wore black skirt suits and her hair was always straight. She was beautiful, but definitely not one to be trifled with. She was almost never beaten in court and oftentimes, the opposing attorney was frightened to go up against her. She was also Detective Torrie Wilson's best friend.

Chris smiled. "Got another one, Torrie."

Mike was not offended that Jericho hadn't mentioned him, in fact, Mizanin was used to it. He knew that he was often too rough and tough with the offenders. He had also only been at the unit for two years. It's hard to outdo a fifteen year veteran.

"I'm just glad he's going to trial. No jury will feel sympathy for him," Stacy said, smiling.

Torrie's instincts kicked in immediately. "Stace, if I were you, I'd watch him. I've got a feeling that he was abused as a child. We may need to call in Hardy."

Jeffrey, or Jeff, as he preferred, Hardy worked with the sixteenth precinct very often as a criminal profiler and forensic psychologist. He worked to bring answers from especially damaged victims - or attackers.

"I wouldn't say that's important right now. It's Friday, guys. Go home. He'll be arraigned soon, but you've all had a long, hard week. You deserve a break." The captain of the sixteenth precinct, Paul Levesque stepped out and gave them all a serious look.

"But, Captain-" Wilson went to reply.

He shook his head. "You heard me. Get home, all of ya." He gave Torrie a small smile.

Torrie was the only female detective in the precinct, but because Stacy and the other assistant district attorney, Lilian Garcia frequented there, it wasn't often that she was the only woman in the precinct.. Stacy was more regular than Lilian, though, mostly because Stacy could handle the crimes much better than Lilian could.

With another small smile, Captain Levesque waved his employees off, hoping that they wouldn't have to be called out to catch another criminal.

* * *

Typically, not many people stayed with the Special Victims Unit very long. It wasn't that the boss was terrible. It wasn't the hours, because most law enforcement often had long hours. No, it was the types of crimes. Women raped and murdered, six year-olds sold into prostitution, babies stolen and sold to anyone under the sun, little boys mutilated and sodomized, it never ended. And even when they caught the perp, that didn't mean that it was over. No, it was never over. Someone always had to be hurt in a disgusting way, or even killed.

Most people couldn't handle it. Two years topped, if that much. Detectives Wilson and Jericho had been at the precinct for years. In fact, Jericho had been there even longer than Wilson had. He was married with a teenage son, but he couldn't quit. No one really understood why he'd stayed so long. His reply was always and would always be "I can't leave." And he couldn't. He loved his wife and son, but this job was his whole life. That's the way it goes sometimes within law enforcement.

Detective Torrie Wilson had moved to New York looking to start fresh, but had ended up right where she'd been in Boston: the police department as a detective in the SVU. That had been her aspiration all throughout her teenage years and right out of her university, she'd gone to police college.

_Never had many friends. Not the greatest home life. Never dated much at all. _That had been her profile for as long as she could remember. Years ago, it had depressed her, but now she only laughed at it.

_Thirty-seven. Never married. Never been to Hawaii. _

That was what depressed her.

She pulled her black peacoat tight around her as she began the short, four block trek home to her two bedroom apartment. Her black boots clinked against the sidewalk and she began to think. _It's November fifteenth. Thanksgiving is coming. Christmas, too. I still need to do some files on the Montgomery case, but I guess that can wait until tomorrow. I'm tired..._

* * *

"Daddy!" was what greeted Mike as he pushed the door to his Queens apartment open.

"Hey, Matty!" Mike watched as his three-year old put down his toy train and ran over to him.

Matthew had been a surprise, no doubt, but Mizanin was so very grateful for having him, his savior. His job frustrated him and he was angry every day over the brutal ways the victims were attacked. If it wasn't for Matthew and his beautiful wife, Maryse, Mike was sure he'd have already gone stark crazy.

"Where's your mom?" he asked Matt.

Matt pointed to the kitchen. "She cookin,'" he replied.

Mike smiled. "What's she making?"

"Steak!" Matt exclaimed, "she said that it's your favorite!"

Mizanin picked up his son and kissed his head, which was covered in brown curls. "Let's go see, huh?"

"Okay!"

Mike carried Matt into the kitchen where his blond wife was glaring at a pot and cursing in French. Luckily, Mizanin had learned enough by now to know what she was saying.

"Maryse!" Mike exclaimed, "what's the matter?"

She looked up and rolled her eyes. She wiped her fingers on a tea towel before saying, "I burnt my finger." Then she burst out laughing.

Mike cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. You just looked so shocked."

Mike shook his head at her before putting their son down. "How about you go watch _Mike the Knight_ before supper, okay?"

Matt nodded. "Sure, Daddy." Matthew scurried off with his dad watching.

Detective Mizanin sighed before wrapping his arms around his wife. He buried his head on her shoulder and let out a loud sniff.

Maryse frowned sadly. She knew how incredibly hard his job was sometimes. "That bad, huh?"

Mike looked up at her, eyes shining. "Man raped a little girl - again. God, I wanted to kill him...," he trailed off.

"Well, can you guys convict him?" she asked.

He nodded. "We've got more than enough, actually. I was mad, but then I calmed down at the bullpen. Then I get home and see Matthew's happy face and I can't...I can't help wondering what would happen if it was him."

Maryse nodded. "It wasn't though, and it won't be. And that little girl's gonna be okay because you and Torrie got him."

Maryse Mizanin had a very large amount of respect for her husband's partner. Torrie had always been very supportive of Maryse and was incredibly sweet to her. Seven years before, Maryse had moved to the United States from Quebec, Canada to work as a model. She'd been very successful and had eventually gotten her green card. A year later, she met Mike. One more year later, she married Mike and then, they'd had Matthew. They were happy, very happy. But a lot of the time, she worried about her husband's wellbeing. She knew that it could not have been easy to deal with the things he did and she definitely didn't want him to hide it from her. Most spouses want to be left out of it, but not Maryse. She knew that he couldn't hide those things from her, which was another reason why he loved her so much.

Mike smiled. "Thank God. She's the best partner a guy could ask for."

* * *

Detective Wilson pushed the door open to her apartment.

A little blond girl with bright blue eyes ran toward her.

"Hey, sweetie!" Torrie gathered her daughter in her arms and pulled her into a warm embrace.

* * *

**Hello, those of you that are still with me! I apologize if any of you are offended, but...well, if you're offended, you shouldn't read this story. It's only gonna get worse. This idea has been absolutely screaming at me lately and after discussing it with two of my fan fiction lovelies who loved the idea, I decided to write it. It's weird, but this chapter pretty much wrote itself. So, I hope you all enjoyed it and I really wanna hear your feedback - positive **_**or **_**negative. Anyway, those of you who watch Law & Order: Special Victims Unit may know who's based off who now, but if you don't and wanna look them up, go ahead. If you've never watched it, you definitely should, it's amazing. There will also be very many pairings in this story, obviously starting with Miz/Maryse. I won't say who Torrie will be with, but I'm sure most of you know already, lol. Thanks, guys! **

** -Kalina**


	2. New to New York

Chapter 2: New to New York

"John Cena, welcome to the 16th precinct."

The blue-eyed detective looked up at Captain Paul Levesque and gave him a smile. "Thanks, Paul. This really means a lot to me."

Paul shook his head. "You have no idea, man. I should be thanking you. We can't seem to stay on top of things here lately. That's why I'm hiring you. Actually, I'm hiring you and two others. Your former captain in Boston only had wonderful things to say about you."

John grinned. "Thanks. But that guy doesn't have a bad thing to say about anybody."

Paul laughed. "Don't say that. I went to police college with Austin. I'm not that stupid. If somebody's bad news, Steve Austin has absolutely no problem saying it."

Cena swelled with pride, knowing what Paul was saying was true. Steve Austin wasn't nicknamed 'Stone Cold' for nothing.

Levesque went on about his spiel. "Now would usually be the time I tell you the rules, introduce you to everybody, namely your partner, show you around the precinct, get you a desk in the bullpen. But you know all of this, John. I'll tell you who everybody is and who your partner is. They're not here, though. Amazingly enough, we haven't got a call yet."

John frowned. "Really? I thought you guys were in desperate need of more detectives...," he trailed off, looking down at his feet, which were shoved in black Nikes.

Captain Levesque nodded. "We are. But I gave them all the weekend off. We don't have any cases yet, but no doubt we will soon. I want to be prepared when we _do _get busy."

John took a deep breath. "So, who's my partner?"

Levesque replied, "she's new here, too. Maria Kanellis. She's transferring from New Jersey's homicide precinct. Hopefully, she'll be able to handle it. Some people just can't handle the job. You know, too...," he trailed off, searching helplessly for the right word.

"Heinous?" John offered.

Paul nodded. "That's the word."

"I'm sure she can handle it," John replied. He didn't know his new partner yet, but he had faith in her already. That was the way Cena was, positive about everything.

Well, almost everything. When it came to _her_ it was very hard to keep positive.

Paul went on. "Usually, we have two ADAs working with us: Stacy Keibler and Lilian Garica. You'll probably see Stacy more, she's better at handling the cases. Jeff Hardy, a criminal profiler and forensic psychologist, he's often here, too. You know, to reach out to the victims, sometimes even the perps."

John's heart began to pound in anticipation. Although he knew _she_ worked here, he wouldn't be satisfied until he heard it straight from the horse's mouth.

"There's Chris Jericho, he's a lieutenant...well, senior detective. His junior detective is Cody Rhodes. He can be...difficult to work with. He's got quite the temper."

John knew that there could only be so many people left in the precinct. Dear God...He was just praying that he hadn't come all the way to New York for nothing.

"Then there's Mike Mizanin. He's a junior detective, been here about two years. His senior detective's Torrie Wilson. And that woman...," he trailed off.

Cena's breath caught in his throat and he hoped that his new captain wouldn't see him lower his eyes with dejection...but relief, too. And utter joy. "What about her?" he managed.

Paul gave him a smug smile. "She's the best damn detective I've ever seen in my entire life."

...

Doctor Jeff Hardy checked his watch for what seemed to be the millionth time. He sighed, wrapping his tattooed arms around his chest. He was clad in a black sweatshirt, jeans, Vans, and a black coat, but he was still freezing - and he had a right to be; it was thirty degrees outside and when he'd sighed, he'd seen his own breath.

_Why the fuck did the captain send me? I don't necessairily work for the SVU. And why the hell couldn't this chick find her own way to the station? Doesn't she already know where everything is?_

Deciding that it was senseless to gripe in his own mind, he looked up, begging the twelve o'clock train to somehow arrive. He didn't exactly know what the Maria woman looked like - pretty generic if you asked him. Thin redhead with green eyes. She'd be wearing a gray, knit sweater, black jeans, and black boots.

He ran his fingers through his rainbow-colored hair, wondering what Maria would think of him. It was odd, really. A brilliant, educated man with tattoos, gauged ears, and multicolored hair that changed by the week. Jeff loved music and art, but he also loved helping people and his job. He didn't look all that professional and it was always a bit of a turnoff during job interviews, but his skills and bright personality always trumped out his looks.

Well, usually his personality was an asset. Today, not so much. He wanted to curse Levesque for dragging him out in the cold to pick up a girl he didn't know and probably wouldn't like. Jeff wasn't into dating and typically, he didn't have girlfriends for long. He believed in love, he had just never found a girl that he'd felt especially connected to.

Finally, he saw the long black train screech up in front of him. He breathed a sigh of relief as the big doors clanged open and people began to pour out.

His eyes scanned the crowd for a redhead. Blond, brunette, man...purple and green, black, blond, brunette...and finally, he spotted her.

Indeed, she was wearing the black and gray outfit. But she was definitely _not_ what he'd expected. The girl was gorgeous - drop dead gorgeous. She had white earphones in her ears and she was carrying a sketchpad. Her head was bobbing to the music. Her eyes were hidden behind dark black wraparound Aviators with silver gemstones around the frame.

Jeff pushed through the crowd to reach Maria and she saw him approach. He could tell that she was confused - just as he'd assumed she'd be. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the badge that Levesque had given him. Jeff wasn't a cop, but had told Maria in advance that Jeff would have on so that she'd be able to identify it.

"I'm Doctor Jeff Hardy. I'm here to show you to the precinct," he gave her a tentative smile.

Jeff could tell that Maria wasn't convinced.

She shoved her sunglasses off of her face and gave him a stare and Jeff marveled at how gorgeous her eyes were. "Really? You're a doctor?"

Jeff grew annoyed at the girl. "Yes, I'm a doctor. Captain Levesque sent me."

Maria still made no moves to go with Jeff. "What's my name?"

Jeff sighed. "Maria Kanellis."

She nodded. "Lucky guess. Where am I coming from?"

Jeff gave Maria a hard look. "Look, is this really necessary?"

Maria folded her arms. "Hell yes, it's necessary. You could be any sicko in the world. You gotta know your facts or I _will not_ go with you."

Sighing again, Jeff replied, "New Jersey police department. Homicide unit."

Maria nodded, smiling. "All right, then, you passed the test. Now come on." She walked past Jeff, smiling.

"Wait!" he called.

She pulled out one earphone and asked, "what?"

Jeff replied, "We're not walking."

Maria turned back to stare at him. "We're not walking? But this is New York...," she trailed off.

Jeff allowed himself to grin slightly. "Maybe. But I've got a car and I'd rather drive. I'd bet my life that it's about to rain. Wouldn't wanna to ruin your pretty outfit."

The redhead wasn't sure if Jeff was complimenting her or just trying to be rude. She pushed her sunglasses back onto her face and kept walking.

The two kept walking until they reached Jeff's black Mustang. Maria's eyebrows raised. The car was in mint condition, obviously considerably new, with tinted windows, and leather interior.

"You _must_ be a doctor," Maria shrugged, getting into the passenger seat.

Jeff beamed with a sense of victory.

"Or maybe one that sells his products...," she trailed off, giving him a wry smile.

Jeff was not offended, merely shocked. By saying that, she was telling him that she was not only not one to be trifled with, but could hold her own. Jeff was impressed. "So, what are you listening to."

The sunglasses turned toward him. Then she lowered them. "Pearl Jam."

That just happened to be Jeff's favorite band.

...

Ding dong!

"What the hell?"

Ding dong!

"What...?"

Ding dong!

"Leave the fucking door alone, I'm coming!" Groaning loudly, Detective Cody Rhodes threw his blankets and sheets off of his bed and yanked on his boxers. He looked at the digital clock at his bedside and saw that it was only noon. Normally, he slept until four or five pm on weekends - if he could get away with it. His job absolutely exhausted him to the core and he used the weekend to recharge his batteries. He didn't know who was stupid enough to interrupt him at this hour, but whoever it was, they were seriously gonna get it.

"All right, I'm here," Cody said, swinging the door open, "this had better be pretty damn import...Eve?"

Cody looked up to see Eve Torres, his ex-girlfriend standing in his doorway. She was crying like crazy and it broke his heart.

"Eve? Are you okay...?" he trailed off, not sure what to do.

She shook her head no and kept crying. "It...it's happened again."

...

Saturday afternoon, Torrie was in the kitchen preparing a late lunch for herself and her daughter. Kassidy Hope was in her bedroom watching a DVD of Spongebob Squarepants. 'Kassie,' as Torrie usually called her, loved the show. Despite years of trying to figure out why, Torrie could never quite put her finger on what exactly it was that Kassie enjoyed about it.

But then, there were a lot of things in this world that Torrie didn't understand, which ranged from why pedophiles are the way they are to why Cody Rhodes had such an odd obsession with the song "Thrift Shop."

Kassie was five years old and was enrolled in the Briarwood Christian Elementary School in downtown Manhattan. For Torrie, it was hard to pick a school for Kassie and a Christian school with high security seemed like the best choices. For the first few years of her life, Torrie had never let her out of her sight - besides the times she was at work - and Wilson wouldn't leave her baby girl with just any_one_. Torrie's job had made it hard for her to be able to trust people with her most prized possession. That was why it was a saving grace that her cousin, Michelle lived near her and didn't work. She enjoyed watching Kassie in the evenings before Torrie got home and in the summer. She had a baby of her own, but having both of them gave her something to do other than sit around the house. Michelle was married to Mark Calaway, the owner of a very, very successful bike shop and only worked nine to fives. Torrie, on the other hand, had sporadic hours which meant that she rarely got to pick up her daughter from school or even get to see her before she went to bed. It wasn't conventional for a mother, but it was all Torrie knew.

Kassie's father wasn't in the picture. Not that he even knew about her. Torrie didn't like to think about how wrong she was being about the situation. Kassidy's dad was not a bad man, it just wasn't ideal for him to be aware of her. Not now, not ever. Besides, the Wilson girls were happy. They could handle it only being the two of them, as Torrie had been the best damn mom that she could be. She'd wanted to give her daughter better than she'd had. Her mother left the family when she was only ten; just about the time she began to really need a mom. Her dad then remarried a much, much younger woman. One of her brothers became a drug dealer; her other one went into the military. Her youngest brother dropped out of school on his eighteenth birthday and ran off to LA. As soon as Torrie got out of high school, she ran to college and then to police college. Then to the Boston SVU. It was only after Torrie discovered that she was pregnant that she moved to New York.

And she moved to New York to run away from the storm that she'd left brewing behind her.

** Hello, all! Thank you so much for the reviews and such positive feedback. So far, I've noticed that some of you have already realized who everyone is from the real SVU. If you haven't, well, I'm gonna list them. Admittedly, most of them are just inspired by their jobs. Some, like Miz and Torrie and John really, really take their characters' persona, though. **

_**Torrie Wilson - Olivia Benson**_

_** Mike Mizanin - Nick Amaro**_

_** Stacy Keibler - Casey Novack**_

_** Lilian Garcia - Alex Cabot**_

_** Chris Jericho - John Munch**_

_** Cody Rhodes - Odafin Tutuola **_

_** Maria Kanellis - Amanda Rollins**_

_** Jeff Hardy - George Huang**_

_** Paul Levesque - Donald Cragen**_

_** And...**_

_** John Cena - Elliot Stabler**_

__**xlightafire, I'm a Stabler kind a girl, too! Let's just say that if I were to get arrested, I'd want to be taken in by Stabler. I'm not too fond of the new episodes, either. Before, I mainly watched to see the amazing chemistry between Elliot and Olivia, haha. Such a darned shame that they never got together, huh? **

** Thanks so much, guys! :)**

** -Kalina **


	3. The Predator Strikes

Chapter 3: The Predator Strikes

_ Blond hair. Blue eyes. Fair skin. Bright, sweet smile. Purple coat. Blue jeans. Purple TOMS. Purple bow in her hair. A heart shaped pendant hung around her neck. Baby blue backpack. Brown teddy bear. She got teased constantly by that bear, but she loved him too much to leave him alone. She brought him everywhere. _

_ He licked his lips with anticipation. Finally, he'd reached the point where he could finally act out the things that he'd only dreamed about. He had no record, no trace of shadiness, just like he'd planned in the beginning. The beginning of _the plan_. _

_ Her name was Hallie. Hallie Jenkins. She was six years old and beyond _perfect. _ Step. Step. Step. She was so close now. Only a few more more feet..._

_ In only a few seconds, sweet little Hallie was in his grasp. She didn't even get a chance to scream before he'd zipped off with her._

_..._

Detective Wilson entered the squad room of the sixteenth precinct at eight o'clock sharp Monday morning. Most people aren't too keen on Mondays, but Torrie didn't really mind. It didn't mean much to her to start a new week since she loved her job. The only thing she really disliked about Mondays was that she and Kassie had to be separated again. Now, Torrie loved her job, but she loved her daughter so much more. If she ever had to choose (and she prayed she wouldn't have to) between working at the precinct or Kassie, well, there was no contest. Kassie was and would always be her number one priority.

Mizanin, Rhodes, and Jericho were already there, drinking coffee and talking loudly about some man thing Torrie couldn't - and didn't want to - understand.

"No, no, no! See, if you're wanting a _real_ truck, Cody, you'll want a Chevy!" Chris cried, "don't listen to Mizanin, he thinks that Fords are legit." He rolled his eyes.

Mike gave Jericho a hard look. "Screw _Chevrolets_," Mike said in a whiny voice, "do you have any idea the difference in suspension? Better rides?"

"Okay, okay," Jericho held up his hands, "you're talking about the _new _Fords. Rhodes can't afford that. We're talking 90s-2000s trucks, dude. And since we are, the suspension on the Chevy is better."

"No-"

"Detectives," Paul cleared his throat.

Torrie hid a smile.

"We've got some new detectives starting today, so-"

"What?!" Jericho exclaimed, "new detectives?!"

"You ever told us anything about that!" Cody cried. He was a junior detective, so it was hard enough for him to earn respective as it was. Especially not with two other detectives coming in.

"Why is this the first time we've heard of it?" Mike snapped.

Even Torrie said, "this isn't like you, Captain."

Paul swallowed. He'd counted on this. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys, but believe me, I understand how things are for you."

The detectives all gave him a quizzical look.

He sighed. "Mike, don't tell me you didn't think of Matthew last month when Jacob Yates was found raped and murdered."

Mike shut his eyes. That had been hardest case ever - hands down.

"Chris, what about when we shut down that child trafficking ring? And we found that thirteen year-old boy who'd been there since he was what, six? Didn't he put you in mind of Jordan?"

Chris swallowed. He had. So much.

"And Torrie. Don't tell me that every little girl who gets raped or murdered or molested doesn't make you think about Kassie," Paul gave her a hard look and Torrie was forced to look away.

Paul sighed. "I didn't bring this up to upset you. And I'll say that I think every day about Aurora, Murphy, and Vaughn. And Stephanie. I don't know how you guys get out there every day and deal with it."

"How does this involve me?" Cody asked, folding his arms, "I ain't got any kids."

"No," Paul replied, "but what about Eve? You can't tell me without lying that you don't think of her every time we come across a drug addicted-"

Cody held up his hands, not wanting to speak about Eve. "I get it. Okay, I'm game."

Paul nodded. "As I expected you would be." He opened the door to one of the interrogation rooms where John and Maria waited with Jeff. "Come on out, guys."

The four other detectives watched as their criminal profiler led the two new detectives out. Maria was first. John was second.

_The girl's really pretty_, Torrie thought to herself. But then, she noticed the man that was trailing close behind the redhead. The all too familiar ocean blue eyes locked onto her emerald green ones and her heart absolutely _stopped_. She couldn't breathe; she couldn't - wouldn't believe that it was him. It couldn't be. He lived and worked in Boston. She'd never given him _any _clues as to where she was. She'd severed all ties with him! She'd never spoken to any of his friends since she'd left!

So what the _hell_ was he doing here in her_ state, _New York. At _her _job. In _her_ precinct. No...this wasn't happening.

"These are Maria Kanellis and John Cena. Maria came from the New Jersey homicide unit and Cena's from the special victim's unit in Boston. I trust you'll all make them feel welcome," Captain Levesque announced.

Although no one knew it, Detective Wilson felt like she was going to throw up. This was just too much for her to handle. She needed some air, some time to think. She had so much to consider right now. Should she stay in New York? Should she leave? Should she quit the precinct? Should she stay?

And to make matters worse, Detective Cena kept staring at her with a heartbreaking look, hurt in his eyes. No one else could see it, as he was wonderfully skilled at masking his emotions, but Torrie knew him all too well. While he appeared nervous about his new position, Torrie could see that he was only gazing dejectedly at her, no doubt trying to one up her because she'd left him with no answer ten years before.

As everyone was exchanging their hellos, Torrie only stared down at her feet. John hadn't stopped staring at her since he'd gotten in the room. She felt ashamed, embarrassed, suffocated.

Before John even had the chance to say anything to her, Detective Wilson was saved by Captain Levesque's stern voice. "Mizanin. Wilson. We've got a dead little girl between fifth and eighth. Candice is already there."

...

Hallie Jenkins, as the on-the-scene police officers had identified to Torrie and Mike, was six years old and went to the public primary school in her neighborhood. She'd been on the way home from school when she'd been killed. But Torrie knew that something else had to have happened to her if the SVU had been called instead of the homicide precinct.

Torrie noticed that Candice Beckman, the SVU's forensic investigator was already bent over the body, examining it.

"What do we got?" Torrie asked. Mike trailed behind her.

"A few minor scratches," Candice replied, "some bruising on her inner thighs." Then she sighed, "some vaginal bleeding and a torn hymen."

"So the bastard raped her?" Mike asked.

Candice nodded. "Yes. And he stabbed her repeatedly with something pretty sharp. I'd guess either a carving knife or sewing shears, but judging by the length of the gashes, I'd definitely lean more toward the knife."

Torrie swallowed hard. The little girl was lying in a pool of her own blood with a look of absolute terror on her face. It was obvious that her death had not been an easy one.

"Any signs of fluids?" Mike asked bluntly.

Candice gave the body another once-over. "I can't say for sure. We'll know more once we get the body back to lab and run tests."

As Torrie spoke to Candice, Mike walked over to the captain of the small police force that had been contacted earlier when the little girl had been found. His name was Adam Copeland and he was a tall man with short, sandy blond hair.

"Any sign of him?" Mike asked.

Adam gave Mizanin a hard look. "Unfortunately no, I'm afraid not. Whoever the hell this guy was, he was good. No neighbors saw him, the crossing guard didn't see him, there wasn't even a trace of fuzz left anywhere. I doubt he's a newbie at this."

_Gonna have to talk to Jeff_, Mike made a mental note to do that as soon as he got back to the bullpen. That, and call Maryse and Matthew.

"You've talked to everyone in the neighborhood and school?" Mike asked.

Adam nodded. Then stopped and thought for a moment. "Wait. No, we haven't. The parent's haven't gotten home yet."

Mike frowned. "Then what the hell was this little girl doing on her way home. She was only six for Chrissake!"

Adam sighed. "I know. She was in Kindergarten and attended the morning classes. Usually, she walked home on her own, since her apartment building is only a block or so from the school. But today, she was supposed to stay at the school later in the office so that her mother could get her in time. She had an appointment somewhere."

"How do you know this?" Mike asked.

"School secretary," Copeland replied, "the mother, Jessica Jenkins, called this morning. But Hallie never got the message."

"Why not?" Mike asked, giving Adam a puzzled look.

Adam shot a hard look at Mizanin. "The teacher never told her."

...

Mike wanted to get ahold of Karla Bratton, Hallie's teacher, badly. But because the Jenkins would be home shortly, he had to stick around the crime scene. He and Torrie were trained for experiences like this, while Copeland's team was not.

Hallie's body had been taken to the morgue long before the Jenkins arrived home. Torrie and Mike had waited around the front door to the Jenkin's apartment for the young couple to arrive home. This was one of the worst parts of being in the special victim's unit - alerting the family of what had happened to the victim.

Jessica Jenkins was a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman with a medium build and designer clothes. Her husband was very similar in looks, besides the fact that his eyes were a haunting gray. They were in their late twenties and owned a successful travel agency in downtown Manhattan. _This shouldn't be happening to them_, Mike thought to himself.

"Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins?" Torrie asked, as she saw them approach, "I'm Detective Wilson and this is my partner, Detective Mizanin. She and Mike, like clockwork, pulled out their badges to prove their positions.

"Y-yes?" Jessica asked, "where's Hallie? The police department called and said that it was vital we come home immediately...?" she trailed off.

Torrie sighed. "Why don't we all go inside?"

Mrs. Jenkins opened her mouth to protest, but her husband silenced her by sliding his key into the lock and opening the door.

The Jenkins settled onto a blue love seat without taking off their coats and motioned for the detectives to sit on the matching sofa.

"Where's Hallie?" Jessica repeated, her eyes widened with fear.

Detective Mizanin sighed. "Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins, I really hate to be the one to tell you this, but your daughter was murdered somewhere between eleven and two today."

Immediately, Jessica Jenkins broke into hysterical sobs and almost fell off of the love seat that she was sitting on. Her husband, though visibly shaken, took her into his arms and held her up.

"What?" he choked, a few absent tears sliding down his cheeks.

Torrie and Mike shared a hard look. Though it was what neither of them wanted to do, it was time to get down to the nitty-gritty details of the crime.

No one could anticipate how truly dangerous and twisted this little girl's rapist and killer really was.

**An update! Woot! Well, I hope you all enjoyed it, I've been working on this for two weeks. I should have the next chapter up soon. Don't forget to read and review. I love hearing what y'all have to say! It means so very much to me and it always makes me smile. :)**

** -Kalina**


	4. Suspect One

**Thanks, you guys! I really am loving all of these reviews! I know this story can be pretty cruel, but I promise that it's gonna be really interesting and have lots and lots and lots of twists and turns and odd sweeps. I really hope to surprise y'all and surprise you again - and then shock you to the point of anger. Haha. I'm trying not to say to much in the A/Ns, so as to not give too much away. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this chapter! :)**

Karla Bratton glared as she paced around her classroom collecting her things. She had papers to grade, lesson plans to prepare, a boyfriend to take care of. She didn't need any of this 'dead student' shit. Sure, she felt bad for little Hallie - she just didn't have time to deal with it. She knew that the police would be calling her soon - she _was _Hallie's teacher, after all. But then, she'd be even _later_ and she'd have to bring home KFC or pizza because she wouldn't have time to cook. Gerald worked eleven hours every day-besides Wednesday and Sunday-and he always liked coming home to a home-cooked meal.

Karla cursed at the obvious knock on her door. "Son. Of. A. Bitch," she said, going to answer the door.

Detectives Mizanin and Wilson stood behind it, holding up their badges. With a scowl, she let them inside the room.

The first thing that Detective Wilson noticed about Karla Bratton was her obvious scowl. She was probably an attractive lady, but Torrie couldn't tell either way. It appeared as though she _never_ smiled and she definitely did _not_ fit the profile of a Kindergarten teacher. She looked genuinely _mean_. Her eyebrows were hunched together, her eyes cold, her mouth turn down in a frown, and her nose scrunched.

She didn't seem to care about her appearance, either. Her mousy brown hair was swept up in an incredibly messy bun, her purple shirt had an obvious stain, and her white slacks were wrinkled. She wasn't a tiny woman, either. She was pretty short and a bit overweight. Not that that mattered to either detective. What mattered to them was her involvement in the rape and murder of Hallie Jenkins.

"Miss Bratton?" Torrie asked.

"Yes, that's me," Karla replied, biting her lip.

"I'm sure you've heard about Hallie Jenkins?" Mike asked her.

She shrugged and darted her eyes from the two detectives to the floor. "Just that she was murdered. You guys wanna sit down?" She gestured to a small, rectangular, yellow table with four colored chairs around them.

The detectives exchanged a look. The table and chairs looked mighty small, but perhaps Karla would relax if she sat. They nodded. Torrie sat down in a red chair and Mike in the blue one beside her. Karla sat across from them in a purple chair.

Mike cleared his throat. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, but she was raped and stabbed repeatedly."

Karla's expression changed from annoyance to shock and remorse. "R-really? Did she suffer?"

Mike frowned. "We think so."

Torrie was surprised to see a few absent tears form behind the teacher's eyes. "She was such a sweet, innocent, bright child. Everyone loved her. They all wanted to sit beside her, play with her, talk to her. She loved everyone, too. There's a stray dog that wanders on campus sometimes and she always feeds him."

Torrie noticed that Karla spoke about Hallie in the present tense, which was an obvious sign of a hint of denial, more than likely a sign that she didn't know what had happened to Hallie.

Mike stopped beating around the bush. "The on-the-site police officer, Captain Copeland, stated that Mrs. Jenkin's called the school and secretary, Mary Sheffield, answered the call. Hallie's mother told the school to tell Hallie _not_ to come home - that she'd pick her up - Mrs. Sheffield told you this, yes?"

Karla lowered her eyes to the floor. "Yes, she did. But...but I forgot to tell Hallie!" She put her head in her hands and began to cry.

"Miss Bratton," Torrie tried to comfort, "why did you forget?"

Karla sniffed. "I...I had my boyfriend on my mind. I was expecting a call from him. I don't...I can't believe...," she trailed off.

"Karla," Mike said, "what is your boyfriend's name?"

Karla wiped at her eyes and looked at Mizanin. "His name's Gerald Randall. Why?"

"We just need to know," Torrie assured.

Mizanin and Wilson shared a knowing glance and Mike stood up. "I'll be right back. Detective Wilson's got a few more questions. I've got a call to make, but I'll be back in a few minutes."

Karla nodded and Torrie gave her a smile. Mike adjusted his black trench coat around him and opened the door to the classroom. Stepping out, he took out his iPhone and dialed the precinct's number.

"Kanellis," was the answer he got on the second ring.

"Maria," Mike replied, unfazed by the newcomer's voice, "can you run the name 'Gerald Rnadall' in the NYC area through the system?"

"Sure," she replied, "I'll get right back to you."

"Thanks," he said, pushing END on the iPhone. He opened the door to the classroom and poked his head in.

Torrie looked up. Karla was no longer crying and looked much better.

Mike hid a smile. _This is why I've got the best damn partner in the world. She can handle _any_ situation at _any _time. _

"Here's the number for the police department," Torrie said, handing her the card of the SVU precinct, "call any time and ask for Detective Wilson."

Karla nodded. "Thank you."

"Thank you for your time," Mike said, shutting the door behind Torrie.

The two detectives began to walk down the halls of the elementary school.

"So, what did you figure out while I was out?" Mike asked Torrie.

Torrie shrugged and frowned slightly, her dimples showing. "Not much at all, unfortunately. She thinks it's her fault that Hallie's dead, but she didn't do it. She was at the school at the time of the murder. But I can't help thinking that-"

"The boyfriend had something to do with it?" Mike finished for her.

She nodded. "Exactly."

"I had Maria run his name through the computers. Either way, we'll speak to him."

At that moment, Mike's phone vibrated. "Mizanin."

Torrie watched as Mike's eyes grew wild.

"Maria, call Jericho and Cody and have them pick him up. We're on our way."

...

"You like little girls, huh?!" Cody yelled, throwing Gerald Randall against the wall and cuffing him.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, squirming, "what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your boss says you came in late this morning," Chris said calmly, "you're a registered, class-A sex offender."

"That's bullshit!" Gerald yelled.

"Oh, yeah?" Cody asked, "well, let's hear all about it down at the precinct, all right?"

Jericho opened the door to his black Jaguar and Cody shoved him into the car. Chris gave him a small furrow of his brows. It wasn't like Chris had any sympathy for the guy - hell no. It was just that he knew that if Cody got too violent, he could get in some _serious_ trouble with 1PP and IAB, or worse, both.

Cody looked down at his feet and slammed the door to the Jaguar. Getting into the passenger seat, he took out his Android phone and sent a quick text to Mike. _We got him. _

...

"Look, I ain't no pervert," Gerald said when he and the two detectives who had arrested him reached the precinct.

"That so?" Detective Cena asked, slamming his hand down on the table.

Because Mizanin and Wilson still hadn't gotten back, Captain Levesque had decided that it would be a good idea to give Detectives Cena and Kanellis a chance to show what they knew by allowing them to question Gerald Randall.

"Says here you slept with a fifteen year-old girl last year," Maria said, reading Randall's file.

"Sounds like a pervert to me," John snapped.

Gerald rolled his eyes. "No. You got it all wrong. I wouldn't have touched her had I known she was only fifteen. She was at the same bar as me, she had a drink - an alcoholic one. How was I to know she wasn't legal? Look, she didn't even complain, her parents did. Called it statuatory rape. They said that if I filed as a sex offender I wouldn't go to jail."

Ignoring him, Maria asked, "Do you know this little girl?" She slapped the morgue's photo of Hallie down on the table.

Gerald squinted before frowning. "Nu-uh. Ain't never seen her. She dead?"

"Yeah," John replied, "Her name's Hallie. Hallie Jenkins. Ring a bell?"

He shook his head. "Ain't never heard of her."

Maria pursed her lips. "Where were you this morning?"

"Work," Randall replied, rolling his eyes.

"What time did you get there?" John asked, looking Gerald straight in the eyes.

"Eight," he replied, "I got there at eight and I didn't leave until those fucking aggressive-ass cops came and got me."

"Can anyone vouch for that?" Maria asked.

Gerald snickered obnoxiously. "I left the apartment at seven-thirty. Karla was still there then. I took a taxi straight to work. You can even call the company: Hunter's. Then, I got to work and I worked until the cops picked me up. Everybody at work knows I was there, just ask 'em."

John swallowed hard. He knew that there was more than likely nothing they could do to keep the guy. His alibis, though not yet proven, seemed to be airtight, unless someone lied, which probably wouldn't happen.

"Sit tight," Cena ordered before motioning for Maria to follow him out.

Outside the interview room, Captain Levesque and ADA Stacy Keibler were waiting for them.

"You like him for this?" Levesque asked.

John and Maria both shook their heads no.

"You can ask Chris and Cody to check up if you want, but I just know in my gut that we're not on the right track," John replied sadly.

Maria nodded. "I agree. That guy's a jackass, but I don't get the perv vibe from him."

Stacy sighed. "Well, we've got no reason to keep him. I can't even subpoena him, so I guess we'll just let him go."

Just then, Jericho let out a loud, _fuck _and slammed the phone's receiver down. He put his head in his hands and began to massage his forehead.

He'd gotten everyone in the bullpen's attention - especially his partner's. "Chris, what the hell's wrong?"

Chris let out a deep breath and removed his hands. His face was incredibly red, anxious, and sorrowful. "That was Torrie. Mike just got a call about another murdered child."

_Give me any reason to believe 'cause I swear I'm dyin' here. 'Cause I've seen the bigger picture and I'm looking for some answers. _

**Hello, y'all! So, again, THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! They make me want to update much faster and I love writing this story, so that'a FANNNNNNNNN**_**TASTIC! **_**I bet you were expecting me to say Fandango, huh? Sorry...Haha. Anyway, those lyrics at the end of the chapter are from Mayday Parade's "Still Breathing." And don't scold me, I know I'm WAY too obsessed with them, haha. I have an anthem for each of my stories and that just happens to be mine for this story. My last day of school is May 21st, but my laptop will be taken up the 20th. Hopefully, we will have internet at my house by then **_**and**_** my new laptop so that I won't have to worry about updates and my videos. I can still update with my really old laptop, just can't make videos, haha. **

** Again, thanks, guys! I love you all sooooooooooooo much! :D**

** -Kalina**


	5. For What It's Worth

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! This one took a **_**ton**_** of research, which is why it took so long. That, and due to summertime laziness. In fact, I even had to call my aunt and uncle to figure out what something was! Haha. But, just to clarify, I **_**do not**_** live in New York. I live in Arkansas. While most of m friends have been there, I haven't, so I usually make up the streets and stuff. If I'm wrong about anything, I apologize in advance. **

_The sinister smile never left his face as he watched the detectives approach the body of little Connor. Such a shame that he'd had to pop up, taking out the trash. Though Connor had been on his list, he wasn't next. But because the little boy had seen him, he was forced to eliminate him, as well. It was possible that Connor knew Hallie, and that just wouldn't do. Such an innocent, beautiful little boy. Besides, Connor had freckles and he definitely liked freckles…_

…

Detectives Mizanin and Wilson walked up to where Candice was once again knelt over the body. She gave them a sad smile. "I should be in the lab right now, trying to get to the bottom of Hallie's murder, not investigating another."

Torrie's eyes scanned over the body and was shocked to see that the victim was not female. "But…this is a little boy," she pointed out.

Mike's eyebrows raised and he glanced over at his partner. "Yeah, so why did we get called?"

"It's a child, Mike," Candice reminded him, "special victim. Besides, it _is_ a sex crime."

He felt a pang in his stomach. "It is?"

Candice nodded. "Unfortunately."

"Are we looking at the same guy for both crimes?" Torrie asked, kneeling down to examine the boy.

Mike didn't want to closely examine the boy, mostly due to the fact that he was close in age to Matthew. But then, he remembered how well Torrie had handled Hallie earlier, who, no doubt had to remind her of Kassie. And so, Mike knelt down, too.

"Very similar crime," Candice agreed, "This poor child was raped and has the same gashes in the stomach. I guess the only real difference in the crime itself is that this was anal sodomy instead of vaginal penetration."

Torrie swallowed hard. "You never get used to the kids," she muttered, sadly.

Compulsively, Mike put his hand on Torrie's back and patted easily. She gave him a thankful smile. It was true that Torrie got lucky in the partner department.

"Any idea who he is?" Mike asked.

Candice shook her head. "We can run his DNA through the system, but I doubt we'll find anything."

The little boy had been found by an elderly woman, Wanda Merrell, who had been walking her schnauzer puppy. He was sprawled in an alley between two apartment buildings.

"Again, I've found virtually no clues," Candice continued. "No fluids, no fingerprints, no murder weapon. Although, I'm pretty positive that we'll find traces of latex in him and in Hallie once we get the tests done."

"So, he used a condom, wore gloves, and ran off with the knife?" Detective Wilson asked.

Candice nodded. "Basically, yes."

Mike sighed. "I'm gonna get Jericho on the phone and have him and Cody come help us track this kid's identity down. And have them talk to Cena and Kanellis to get with Hardy to figure out what kind of guy we're dealing with."

Candice stood up. And we'll get our victim into a bus and hopefully get you guys some answers."

Torrie breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't ready to deal with Cena – just yet.

...

Detective Kanellis folded her arms, watching Jericho and Rhodes walk out of the bullpen. She wasn't exactly angry, but she wasn't happy. She didn't really appreciate the fact that she was still sitting behind a desk, waiting to be called out. Now, granted, she was the new girl and had never dealt with special victims. Pair that with the fact that the captain had to be sure of what his new employees were like, and it all came together quite nicely. But, that didn't make things any better.

Maria relaxed, thinking of the situation she'd left behind at New Jersey in homicide. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes. _I won't do that again_, she said to herself. _I won't. I won't let myself ever hurt that much ever again._

Her new partner, John Cena, came up beside her and handed her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," she replied, taking the cup from him and sipping gingerly.

He nodded and then noticed Maria's somber expression. "I'm guessing it's not too good."

As if she was chilled, Maria wrapped her arms around her chest. "Same crime, different kid. This time, it was a boy and they have no idea who he is. While Mike, Torrie, Chris, and Cody run around trying to find out who the kid is and who killed him, we're supposed to talk to Jeff about what kind of guy we're looking for."

John nodded and Maria noticed that her new partner had very prominent dimples. _Cute_, she thought t herself, _but beyond a shadow of a doubt, not my type._

Detective Cena glanced at Maria again, noticing that her face was still saddened. "You all right?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess special victims is just really, really different from homicide. In homicide, there's usually just a body. In special victims, there are bodies, there are victims, and there are twisted, perverted sickos who think they can do whatever the _hell_ they want."

John smiled wanly and patted her shoulder. "Just wait 'til you start dealing with the victims' parents."

…

"Do you know this kid?" Detective Jericho slapped down their newest victim's morgue photo onto the front desk.

Their victim had been found in an alley between two apartment buildings, so it was only logical that they look there first. He and Cody had taken the right building and Torrie and Mike had taken the left.

The man behind the counter was older, gray-headed, chubby, and wore circular, wire-rimmed glasses. At Chris's question, he pushed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and squinted. "'Course, I do. That's Connor."

"Connor…?" Cody trailed off.

The man shrugged. "Don't know his last name. He's one of the Clausen's foster kids. They got a bunch of them."

Chris's eyebrows rose. "A bunch? Do they live here?" It seemed strange to him that a foster family with lots of children would live in a small apartment.

The deskman nodded. "Sure do. Room thirteen on the second floor."

"Are they here?" Cody asked.

"The missus is. Mister's at work," he replied. Then, his smile faded. "Is Connor all right?"

Chris sighed. "Connor's dead."

The man did not reply, only bowed his head and began to whisper what Chris believed to be a short prayer.

…

"He's probably not very sociable," Jeff said, swiveling in his chair and propping his feet up on his desk. "I assume that he's in his late thirties or early forties. He's been planning this for a long time and he's definitely enjoying it."

John narrowed his eyes. "So, you think he's spent his whole life planning to rape and kill children?"

Jeff folded his hands and nodded solemnly. "I hate to say it, but yes. Then again, it's possible that he's an upstanding citizen. But I do think that he's new to New York. He's stuck in the same area the past two crimes. Perhaps he doesn't know the area too well just yet."

"Makes sense," John agreed, "I've been here less than a week, so I can vouch for that."

Maria noticed a strange expression cross over the psychologist's face. "What is it?"

He shrugged. "I guess I've got another hunch."

Cena nodded. "We're listening."

Jeff bit his lip. "This is less likely, but I've got a weird feeling about it…I may have been wrong when I said that he was probably not very sociable. I'm thinking, maybe, he's approaching these kids and they trust him. He may look like anyone's dad. They may not get a bad vibe from him. He could…He could be someone's dad, and if that's true, I really worry."

For a few moments, the two detectives processed Jeff's words. That is, until another thought crossed Detective Kanellis's mind. "Why do you think he struck twice in one day? Isn't that really, really risky?"

Jeff thought for a moment and then nodded. "It is. But if my suspicion is correct, and it usually is," he chuckled to himself, "this is the first time he's done it. He's fantasized about it for years, so he may have gotten such a high from raping and killing that first girl that he couldn't help himself to kill another…_Or_, he happened to come across the kid and couldn't help himself then, either."

John chuckled, too. Within any SVU, there was a dark humor to its employees. There almost had to be, as it was one of the _toughest_ jobs in the world. "So, either way, he has _zero_ self control?"

Jeff nodded. "Exactly. Not uncommon in pedophiles, but then again, he may be a self-trained pedophile. He might have self-control because he's trained himself to do so. He may have even gone as far as to watch kiddy porn over and over so as to-"

John held up his hands. "Fine, fine. I don't really want to know the details of it."

Jeff smiled. "Don't blame you."

Maria bit her lip and then swallowed. She closed her eyes. She'd thought she could handle all of this.

But now, she wasn't convinced.

…

"What the hell do _you_ want?" A thin, tangled, dishwater blond in faded blue pajamas answered the door to apartment thirteen.

Since there were twelve rooms per floor, it wasn't hard to spot the room they were looking for. It was the first on the second floor. This, Jericho and Rhodes presumed, was their Mrs. Clausen. She was holding a bottle of vodka in one hand, bourbon in the other.

Instinctively, they whipped out their badges and held them up for the woman.

"Mrs. Clausen?" Chris asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's me. You cops?"

Jericho nodded as Cody said, "Detectives."

Reluctantly, Mrs. Clausen opened the door to her apartment. "My husband isn't home; he's working at Wal-Mart right now."

"Are there any children home, Mrs. Clausen?" Chris asked.

"Call me Tonya. Only the baby," she replied.  
"Okay Tonya, do you know this child?" Cody asked, holding up the picture of Connor.

Tonya looked at it hard. "Never seen him before."

"Well, look harder!" Cody exclaimed, "he's your foster kid, isn't he?!"

Detective Rhodes' anger was building at the stupidity of this alcoholic who obviously had no business being a foster parent.

Tonya swallowed. "I…I guess," then she stopped. "Is that…is that Connor?"

Chris nodded, grimly. "Yes, it is. Can you tell us his last name?"

"Midland," she replied, "Connor Midland. Is he dead?"

"Yes," Detective Rhodes replied.

Tonya bit her lip.

"Is there a reason why he wasn't at school today?" Chris asked her.

She made a face. "His so called 'big brother' took him out for the day. It had to be him! It had to be! The little bastard! I knew he was trouble!" Tonya glared at the wall and violently threw her bottle of vodka at it. It shattered and vodka spattered over the wall and stained brown sofa.

"Mrs. Clausen, please!" Chris yelled, "Calm down!"

"No!" she cried out, "No! No! No! I want that boy in prison. I want him put on death row!"

Cody sighed. "Tonya, what is his name?"

She gave him a hard look. "Blake Dibiase!"

…

"What the hell am I doing in here?"

Torrie glanced at Mike before clearing her throat. "We want to know about Connor Midland."

"You know him?" Mizanin asked, patting the table.

After picking Blake up at a Spencer's on Ninth and Fifth, Detectives Wilson and Mizanin had brought him to the precinct for questioning. Luckily, he had just turned eighteen a month ago, therefore, they could question him without his parents present. They wanted to get to the bottom of it as quickly as possible.  
"Yeah," Blake replied, "he's my little brother."

Mike frowned. "Your little brother?"

"I'm in the big brother program at school," Blake explained, "I needed community service this year to graduate, so I signed up for it. Basically, they put you through this matching system with the elementary school in the district. They assign you a misfortunate kid who matches your personality and interest. Connor's mine, has been since September when school started."

"Was," Mike said, slapping down the morgue's photo of Connor. "He was stabbed to death."

Blake's jaw dropped. "H-he was?" His eyes filled with tears and he tried to blink them away.  
"Yeah," Mike replied, "His foster momma said that you were the last person to see him."

Blake frowned. "Well, I took him to his apartment building. His foster parents piss me off, so I always walk him to the door and watch him walk up the stairs to his room."

"How come they piss you off?" Torrie asked.

Blake made a face, eyes still teary. "Connor was truly like the little brother I'd never had and always wanted. We both liked fishing and video games and pizza and bowling…," he trailed off, "but his foster parents…I don't know. They just have no business being foster parents. The mom's an alcoholic, his dad's borderline and abusive, I know. Why that stupid-ass social worker placed all of those kids at that place I don't know. But I do know that it's no place for kids, especially that many."

Torrie frowned. "How many kids live there?"

"I'm not totally sure," Blake replied. "Connor mentioned three girls, two boys besides him, and a baby. So, at least seven."

Mike groaned. "In a two bedroom apartment."

"Right," Blake replied.  
"So, where were you tod-"

Suddenly, the doors to the interrogation room burst open.

"Blake, don't you dare say another word!" A man in a gray suit popped into the room. With him was a woman in a purple, knee-length skirt suit, who wore a string of pearls and had her hair in a French twist.

"Who are you?" Mike asked, hands on his hips.

The man gave Mike a hard look. "Ted and Mickie Dibiase. Blake's parents. And his lawyer's right behind us."

…

"He didn't do it," ADA Stacy Keibler announced, arms folded over her chest. She, ADA Lilian Garcia, and Captain Paul Levesque all stood outside the interrogation room, watching Detectives Wilson and Mizanin question their latest suspect.

Lilian placed a hand on her hip. "How can you be so sure, Stace?"

Stacy narrowed her eyes at her fellow attorney. "Lil, listen to him. He's grief-stricken and I don't think he's faking it."

"Our job is to work for the victim's," Lilian said.

"Right," Stacy said, "but our job _isn't _to serve injustice."

"If Wilson and Mizanin prove him innocent, we'll cut him loose," Paul said, "but if not…," he trailed off.

Both attorneys knew what Levesque meant.

Stacy shook her head. "Okay, but no matter what, I'm gonna stick with my gut. I'll do my job, but it doesn't mean I'm gonna like it."

Levesque cracked a smile. "Your job isn't to like it."

Lilian went to add in her own two cents, but suddenly, an expensive looking couple came storming in.

"Wait, wait!" Levesque cried, "I'm Captain Levesque. Can I help you?"

The woman nodded. "I'm Mickie Dibiase and this is my husband, Ted. That's our son in there and we _will _be present during his questioning of whatever crime he _allegedly _committed."

Levesque's eyebrows rose. Then, he nodded. "Go right ahead."

"His attorney will be following us," Ted said, motioning for his wife to follow him.

"The Dibiase family is wealthy," Levesque informed the ADAs. "No doubt they'll have one of the best damn defensive lawyers in the state, if not the country."

Just then, a tall, handsome man in a black suit walked up to them. "Levesque," he nodded. He looked at the ADAs and grinned. "Hello, Stacy."

Instantly, her cheeks turned bright red.

He raised his eyebrows at her seductively, smiled and opened the door to the interrogation room.

Once the man was gone, Lilian shot Stacy a confused look. "Who's that?"

Stacy didn't reply.

Levesque shrugged. "I've seen him before, but don't know his name. I know for a fact that he's a defense attorney, though."

Stacy gulped and then shut her eyes. She leaned her back against the wall to steady herself. "That's Randy Orton. My ex-boyfriend."

…

DNA analyst Candice Beckman was back in the lab, going over the results of Hallie Jenkins' tests. There wasn't really anything to look at - at all. So far, all she'd found was scrapes and bruises, vaginal bleeding, and a torn hymen – all things she'd found at the crime scene. She'd hoped to find skin cells under her fingernails, a fingerprint, a hair, or even a clothing fiber, but unfortunately, she hadn't.

However, one thing that she _had _found was the presence of benzene, which proved that the man _had _used a condom, which could definitely prove rape. If the detectives found the guy and had enough evidence to prove that it was him that had committed the rapes and murders, she could prove that a rape did occur. Because Hallie was still a child, any sexual act involving her was illegal.

Candice smiled at the thought of the guy going to prison. He'd raped and killed two children, so, given the heinousness of the crime, the jury would eat him for lunch and he'd definitely get life in prison.

_Maybe he'll get multiple life sentences_, Candice thought, grinning. Then, she frowned again. Not only did she have to call Mizanin and Wilson with bad news about the victim, she was also stewing over her current personal situation.

Candice had been dating Jack Swagger, a cardiologist at Mercy Hospital, for a little over four months. Candice definitely liked him; he was safe. However, he was downright boring and she wasn't _in love _with him. And there wasn't that much of an attraction. Especially now, since…

Well, since the police ball when she'd met Dave Batista, a senior detective from narcotics. A former UFC fighter, Dave was huge, bulky with muscles, tanned, and _hot_. They'd met up the month before at the annual police ball. After some dancing, a little harmless flirting, and _a lot_ of alcohol, they'd rented a hotel room and hadn't stopped since. She knew that it was wrong. Wrong to her, wrong to Dave, _and _to Jack. And she knew that she should get sick of being Dave's booty call, just as he should get sick of hers.

But no matter what, they get just couldn't shake each other.

…

Captain Levesque headed back to his office, in an effort to calm himself down. Two dead, very young rape victims were dead within two hours. The job was tough, but he'd always managed. Now that there weren't very many clues, he just wasn't sure how he and his precinct were going to handle this. At the least, he was terrified.

That was when he picked up his phone and dialed the number of his best friend in the world. The one person he knew could help them.

It didn't really matter what the man's past had to do with one of the members of the precinct.

What mattered was putting this sicko away for good.

_Tell me that it's worth 'cause I'm doin' all I can to fight it. And I've never been this scared. And my moment's finally here. _


	6. Without a Trace

_To his utter delight, Detective Torrie Wilson and her partner had come to examine the body of Connor and Hallie, too. His plan was coming along quite nicely and it was pleasing. It was nice to know that his lifelong goal was being accomplished. Meanwhile, he could enjoy his time in New York. He was finished with the rapes and killings today and probably for the next day, too. Tomorrow, he'd go and visit the statue of liberty or maybe the empire state building. Time Square, for sure. It might take a while to do all of these things, but that was all right. _

_He had all of the time in the world. _

…

"Look, Mom, Dad. I have got _nothing _to hide. I'll talk with you guys present. Randy, too. But I've done nothing wrong," Blake stated, eyeing his parents angrily.

"We know that, honey," Mickie Dibiase replied, "we just don't want the police taking anything you say out of context.

Torrie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. However, she could understand why Mickie thought the way she did. Obviously, if something had happened with Kassie, Torrie would have reacted the same way. "We just want to know what happened today with Connor," she said calmly.

"All right," Blake said, "Today was siblings today with the Big Brother/Big Sister program. All of the kids from the program went to Washington Park for the day. It was chilly, but we all had fun. We had a picnic, played games, talked, and just spent time together. Connor and I played Frisbee and stuff, 'cause he loved Frisbee and his deadbeat foster 'rents wouldn't play with him."

Mike narrowed his eyes. "And after that…?"

"After that, I walked him to his apartment. He went up the stairs and I left. I took the subway straight to Spencer's. My friend Liam's birthday is next week and he likes stupid stuff like shot glasses with weed on 'em…and mugs shaped like boobs, and stuff." He lowered his head with embarrassment.  
Torrie bit her lip, chewing on the things that Blake had just said. Her instincts began to set in and her actions followed.

"Is Jericho still at the apartment?" Torrie asked Mike.

Mike nodded. "Yeah, he is. Cody, too."

"Get him on the phone and have him and Cody talk to _everyone_ there. Find out why he was outside and anyone who went outside after him," Torrie instructed him.

Instantly, Mike stood up and

Ted looked up at Torrie's words. "Is my son free to go, then?" he asked her.

Torrie thought for a moment. "Give me a sec. I need to consult with the ADA."

Mickie Dibiase glared as Torrie walked through the door.

Before Torrie could even say anything, Stacy said, "Cut him loose."

Torrie was stunned. "Are you sure?"

Stacy put a hand on her hip. "Positive. We've got no reason to hold him. Besides, I'm convinced that he's innocent."

"Me too," Torrie admitted. Then she turned and walked back through the door.

Mike looked up at her and gave her a questioning look.

"Blake, you're free to go," Torrie announced.

He jumped up from the table, almost banging his knee. He sighed hard. "Please, please, please find out who killed Connor. Please."

Torrie took his pleas to heart. "Don't worry. We will."

…

"Mrs. Clausen-"

"Tonya," she interrupted, correcting Lieutenant Jericho.

"Right," he replied, slightly annoyed.

He and Cody had spent the past hour trying to calm her down. While Chris sat in the living room with her, listening to her whine and yell about how evil Blake Dibiase was. Cody was in the children's room with gloves (and with her permission, of course), to look for anything that might help them find Connor's rapist and killer.

"What happened after Connor got home?" Cody asked, walking back into the room, beyond agitated. While Chris could keep his emotions in check, Cody was not so good at it. Chris suspected he never would be.

"I was sitting here," she said, "watching _The Talk_. The baby was asleep and it was quiet." She made a face. "Then, _he _came in."

"He, as in, Connor?" Cody interjected.

She nodded. "Yes. He was blabbering about how much fun he had with Blake and the other kids, blah, blah, blah."

Cody bit his tongue. "And?"

"And I told him to get his ass into the kitchen and take out the trash," she said, glaring.

Cody frowned.

This was odd. Only an hour ago, she'd been bawling her eyes out about her dead foster child. Now, she acted as though he'd disgusted her and didn't want him around.

_Perhaps she was trying to put the blame off of herself, _Detective Rhodes noted.

Tonya continued. "It was making the whole damn apartment stink and he _knows_ that it's his job. He cried a little bit, but I didn't give a shit. Nothing makes me madder than a lazy-ass kid. Once he went down, he didn't come back up."

Chris glanced at Cody.

"So you're saying you haven't seen him since he left to take out the trash?" Chris asked.

She nodded. "That's right."

"How many bags did he take out?" Cody asked.

"Just one. Even though there's trash in the bathroom, too. Lazy, like I said," Tonya replied, pausing as she lit up a cigarette and took a puff off it.

"What about Connor's _real _parents?" Chris asked, "his biological ones?"

Tonya shrugged. "His dad ran off before he was born. He hasn't seen his mom since the day he was born. He was born with cocaine in his bloodstream."

"So he's been in the system since he was born?" Cody asked, surprised.

"Yes," Tonya replied, pulling her cigarette out of her mouth. "I just got him a year ago, though. He'd been living with another family, but they moved. A lot of foster kids end up bouncing around."

Chris cleared his throat. "We may be back, but until then," he reached into his shirt pocket, "here's my card. If you think of anything else, call us, all right?"

She nodded, settling back down on his sofa.

Cody backed towads the door, more than ready to leave. He was relieved when his partner nodded for him to turn the doorknob.

...

Captain Levesque was in his office when his cell phone rang. During the day, it was odd for him to receive calls on it, instead of on the sex crimes unit's phone. But when he looked down, he instantly understood.

"Hey, Shawn," he said, answering his phone.

"Hello, Hunter."

Paul smiled at his best friend's old nickname for him. Back when they'd both worked in homicide, Shawn had taken to calling him Hunter because he could 'hunt' for criminals faster and more skillfully than anyone Shawn had ever seen.

"So, what do I owe you?" Paul asked Shawn.

"Huh?" Shawn asked, perplexed at his friend's words.

"Well," Paul began to explain, "for you gracing me with this less-than-present phone call, for interrupting your fine work at the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, and for making you jump the first plane to New York City. Oh, and for making you take a cab en route to the SVU in Manhattan."

Shawn thought for a moment. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."

"So...," Hunter trailed off, "when are you going to be here?"

"I'll be there tomorrow morning," Shawn replied. "Make sure _she_ isn't around."

_Time's racing, please slow down. I've gotta find my way out. I'm hopeless, but hoping my lungs won't fail me now._

**Long time no see! Hello to all of my very faithful readers! I know this chapter was kind of slow, but we've got some MAJOR tragedy in chapter 7! That is all I shall say...For now, at least! But for all of my fellow Jorrie shippers, be aware that you are in for some very heartbreaking scenes coming up...But if it won't kill me, it won't kill YOU! **

** Now, I'm sure all of you have heard of the recent break up between George Clooney and our very own Stacy Ann-Marie Keibler. I am quite ecstatic that she will stop wasting her time with a man who won't give her what she needs. I'm still a Rancy shipper, but for little Alanna's sake, I hope Randy doesn't take too much notice...**

** Until next time, my lovely people! :)**

** -Kalina**


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